"Where's Whitey?"James "Whitey" Bulger's Confidant Pens Fictional Account of Mobster's Time on the Lam
"Whitey" confidante pens fictional account of mobster's 16-year run from FBI.
June 23, 2011 -- Author Kevin Weeks was top lieutenant to J. James "Whitey" Bulger, the notorious alleged Boston mob boss who stayed at the top of the FBI's "Most Wanted" list for more than 16 years before his arrest at his Santa Monica, Calif., home June 22.
In his new book, "Where's Whitey," Weeks, and coauthor Phyllis Karas, offer a fictional account of Bulger's life on the run. "Where's Whitey" follows Bulger, his longtime companion Catherine Greig, and "Joey," a fictional character based on Weeks, as they crisscross the globe to evade the FBI agent assigned to find the mob boss.
While the story is fiction, its insider knowledge gives readers an intriguing glance inside the mind of Bulger and his time on the run, with hints toward the actual whereabouts of the man who was second only to Osama bin Laden on the "Most Wanted" list and had a $2 million bounty on his head. The book was released the same week the FBI announced stepped-up efforts to find Bulger, and opens with a scene in California, the same state where the mobster was, in real life, finally brought down.
Weeks' previous book, "Brutal: The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob," was a true-life account of his 25 years with Bulger, including his role in removing the remains of those killed by Bulger for disloyalty and his participation in shakedowns of Boston-area drug dealers. Weeks was arrested in 1999 but had his sentence reduced to six years after he cooperated with the Justice Department.
Read an excerpt from "Where's Whitey?" below, then visit ABCNews.com to read the latest headlines on the FBI investigation of "Whitey" Bulger that brought a 16-year manhunt to an end.
Excerpt
Chapter 2 Whitey, New York, 1999
I'm working out in our New York hotel room when Cathy comes in with the news. It's just a few minutes after six and I'm about through with lifting weights.
'I saw it on the television,' she tells me, her voice slightly breathless.
She's wearing a fluffy yellow terrycloth bathrobe, her short blonde hair wrapped in a towel. Her skin is pink from the bath she took and as always, she looks fabulous.
'You've been named on the FBI's Most Wanted List, Jimmy: "James Whitey Bulger wanted for nineteen murders". My name's there, too.'
She stops for a moment and studies my face. I shrug and she goes on, her voice a little softer now: 'They also say you were an FBI informant, as well as the head of the South Boston mob.'
I'm not surprised: my contacts have been warning me for weeks that the FBI was going to list me. As for the informant shit, that's no big shock either – the surprise is that I hid it so well for thirty years. Now all that means is there's no one I can get in touch with – certainly not Joey – who I bet couldn't believe his ears. Too bad I never found the words to tell him myself – he deserved that.
I study her face. She's trying to play the game the way I like it, cool and collected. You have to give the woman credit – in so many ways, she's made for this life. I put down the weights and sit on the nearest chair.
'Yeah, no big surprise,' I casually mutter.
She folds down onto the floor beside my chair and leans her cheek against my leg. I'm sweating through my warm-up suit but that doesn't seem to bother her.
'How does this affect us?' she asks.
'Not much,' I answer. 'We've always been careful, there's nothing I'll do any different.'
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